


The Show

by VincentMeoblinn



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal, Exhibitionism, M/M, Multi, Oral, Promiscuity, Rimming, Spanking, Voyeurism, mentions of watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:02:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2662859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VincentMeoblinn/pseuds/VincentMeoblinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John starts to stalk Sherlock when he believes he is at work. What he sees drives him mad with lust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Show

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Queenoftheuniverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenoftheuniverse/gifts).



John knew following Sherlock was a bad idea. First off the man could lose him so easily that it was ridiculous, which meant that he  _knew_ John was following him and was allowing it; second of all because he was bound to see something he didn’t want. Which was exactly what was happening at that moment.

Sherlock was on his knees in an alley sucking off some bloke, a thick dark cock sliding in and out of his mouth as the man fucked his face without hesitation. John’s clinical side was relieved Sherlock had made him put on a condom, but the rest of him was a mixture of aroused and outraged. Sherlock was driving him crazy. Intentionally. That had to be it. He was _purposely_ taunting him. Sherlock made himself unavailable to John for this _exact_ act and then teased John by letting him follow him on what was apparently his regular rounds of sexcapades!

Sure enough, once the large man finished with Sherlock, the consulting detective wiped off his mouth, chatted with him for a moment, and then left with a casual wave and a dismissive glance over his shoulder. He went a few blocks down and was on his knees again, this time the young man he sucked off was overwhelmed and had to clutch at his mouth as he writhed helplessly beneath Sherlock’s ministrations. When he came he collapsed onto the ground in the alley and Sherlock stood over him looking smug and bored all at once. Again they spoke for a moment while the other bloke wiped sweat off his brow. The man kept indicating Sherlock’s arousal but Sherlock apparently declined assistance and instead leaned against a wall to toss off while the other bloke watched. Then Sherlock was off to a motel where John lost sight of him in a crowd.

John headed home feeling miserable and ill used. When he arrived Sherlock had somehow managed to beat him there.

“What are you doing home so early?” Sherlock asked in apparent surprise, “You don’t look sick… your shift at the clinic was cancelled?”

“As if you didn’t know,” John growled angrily.

“You’ve been wandering around London judging by the state of your clothes. You’ve been…” Sherlock sat up in alarm, “You’ve been in the same places _I_ have.”

“Don’t act is if you didn’t know!” John shouted angrily, “We both know I could never follow you without you knowing it.”

“Apparently not,” Sherlock replied, paling and leaning back on the couch with a vulnerable look on his face.

John faltered. Sherlock looked truly alarmed and ashamed.

“You really didn’t know I was following you?”

Sherlock shook his head, looking miserable, “How much did you see?”

“Enough to know you’re not alarmed by sex,” John replied, feeling miserable himself, “How aware have you been that I’ve been throwing myself at you for the last six months?”

“Try seven,” Sherlock replied with a sigh.

“Seven?” John asked.

“You weren’t aware of your own flirting at first,” Sherlock waved dismissively.

“So why, Sherlock?” John asked, “Couldn’t you just… tell me you weren’t interested?”

“I didn’t want to lose your friendship,” Sherlock replied, rubbing at his face as he sat up, “You’re important to me.”

“Important enough to _talk_ to?” John asked.

“You’re the one who _stalked_ me!” Sherlock snapped.

“I was following you for a lark!” John replied, “We’ve tailed each other before, remember?”

“Yes, but you’ve never _succeeded_ before!” Sherlock snarled, standing up and pacing, “You can’t do that again, John. You’re clearly getting too talented at mimicking my methods.”

“Did you just forbid me from stalking you?” John asked with a laugh.

“Yes.”

“Sherlock just… tell me why. Why are you… debasing yourself like that?”

Sherlock’s eyes flashed and he stormed from the flat in a clear rage. John tried to follow him but Sherlock once more proved himself capable of vanishing. Whatever might have happened that day, he hadn’t lost his touch. John didn’t see him again for three days, and when he did he’d stumbled on him quite by accident.

John walked into the pub and saw Sherlock leaning against a wall, clad in tight clothes and flirting with a young man in military garb. He ducked behind several people and managed to follow him out into the parking lot before Sherlock saw him, headed over in outrage, and slapped him soundly.

“Stop! Following! Me!” Sherlock shouted in his face.

“Stop! Doing! This!” John shouted back, grabbing him and shaking him angrily.

Sherlock broke free, shoving at John angrily. Whoever his mark was had made himself scarce, leaving John and Sherlock to tussle on the pavement until John had Sherlock pinned against a car that immediately started howling its protest. John swore as the owner left the pub and shouted at them. Sherlock and John bolted from the scene and were soon staggering down an alley, out of breath and laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“This has to stop,” John sighed, shaking his head, “Just tell me straight, Sherlock. Do you think of me that way or not?”

“Not so long as someone else is stuffing me from one end or the other,” Sherlock replied, head hitting the brick behind him with a long, drawn out sigh, “Or both.”

“Then why not me?”

“First of all,” Sherlock replied with narrowed eyes, “It isn’t _debasing_.”

“Okay,” John nodded, “Difference of opinion. I can respect you as long as you respect yourself.”

“You know I do,” Sherlock snapped.

“Okay. Got it. Why, then?”

“Why not?” Sherlock replied, shoving off of the wall and pacing the alley, “It feels good. It’s satisfying. It’s the only damn human connection I can make without fucking it up!”

Sherlock gestured angrily with his hands as he spoke and John watched him pace.

“What about me?”

“What about you?” Sherlock scowled.

“You make a human connection with me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Sherlock replied, turning to him with a pleading look in his eyes, “ _Without_ sex. Please, John. I need this to _not be about sex._ It crosses a line for me.”

“I _want_ you, Sherlock. I can’t change that.”

“You want a more intense relationship with me, yes, but it doesn’t have to be _between_ us,” Sherlock replied, his tone still frantic, “John, I can’t. I can’t give you that. Don’t ask me to. It will _end_ us.”

“Okay,” John agreed, nodding firmly, “Okay. I won’t ask that of you. What can we do to fix this between us?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Sherlock replied, tugging at his curls, “You were never supposed to _find out_.”

“How long have you been doing this?” John asked, “I mean besides lately?”

Sherlock paused to think, “Well I did it back in Uni when Victor was throwing himself at me, and I started back up again when you moved in.”

“Why the ten year or so gap?”

Sherlock shrugged, “No one made me think of sex then. It isn’t something I usually desire.”

“Soooo, you only do this when someone’s interested in you?” John asked. Sherlock nodded, “That’s pretty fucked up, Sherlock.”

Sherlock scowled, “What happened to respecting me?”

“I do, I’m just… _Why?”_ John wanted to know.

Sherlock leaned back against the wall, looking miserable. A suspicion welled up in John.

“Did Victor ever catch you?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

“We aren’t chums anymore. You do the math.”

“Did you sleep with him?”

“No. We didn’t have the chance. He punched me and then went home for the holidays the next day. I never heard from him again. I believe he switched universities.”

“You didn’t look into it?”

Sherlock gave him a cold look and John frowned, realizing how callous he’d sounded, “Okay. Sorry. You were hurt. I get it. Well, I’m not leaving and I’m not going to demand sex if you don’t want that with me.”

“I… I don’t _not_ want it,” Sherlock replied, squirming uncomfortably.

“Do you want to go home and…”

“No,” Sherlock said quickly.

“Okay. Well… just… let me know,” John replied awkwardly.

They headed home in silence together, and the discomfiture slowly faded away the closer they got to Baker Street. He had no idea what to do with Sherlock like this, but it wasn’t _lose_ him, and that’s what he’d end up doing if he kept pushing him. So he backed off. He resisted the temptation to follow Sherlock when he went out without him and didn’t bring up his activities again. Then one day John mixed up his schedule and came home to hear Sherlock’s voice shouting in pleasure from his bedroom.

The rhythmic grunts of another partner were almost drowned out by the rattle of the bed frame. John stood in the entryway, stunned by the ferocity, and then headed upstairs with the single-minded need to see who it was with Sherlock. Was he handsome? Ugly? Did he look like John? Was he military like the last fellow Sherlock had solicited? John crept to the door and carefully turned the knob until he could peer in a crack.

Sherlock was on his knees, grasping the headboard as the posts slammed into the wall, his face was twisted in a mixture of pleasure and pain. Behind him a large man with a full beard grunted with each thrust into Sherlock’s body. John didn’t see the appeal in his choice, though perhaps all that hair would be fun to run his fingers through…

John shivered as he realized how aroused this sight was making him. He debated with himself for a moment and then tugged open his flies to fist his cock inside of his pants. He was picturing himself pounding into Sherlock, but it was _so much better_ because he could _see_ him on the cusp of orgasm. All he needed was something like a cock stroker and this would be _perfect_.

The man came with a grunt and John joined him, biting his knuckle to keep quiet as he soaked his pants with come. He sighed as he leaned back against the wall, and then jumped in surprise as the door flew open and the man who had been buggering Sherlock gave him a disgusted look.

“Pervert,” He grunted, still doing up his flies. He shoved past John and headed for the exit while John frowned in consternation.

Another thump caught John’s attention and he turned his head back to the entryway, eyes wide in horror at being caught. Sherlock was standing there, leaning against the doorjamb of his bedroom. He was drenched in sweat, reeking of sex, still completely naked and hard as a rock. While John gaped at him he wrapped his hand around his cock, gave it three firm strokes, and came with his eyes locked to John’s.

“Gods,” John whispered.

“Goodnight, John,” Sherlock sighed, his eyes looking lazily pleased.

“It’s… _ahem_ … it’s not even midday.”

“Still,” Sherlock shrugged one shoulder and kicked the door shut with his heel as he staggered towards his bed.

“Night,” John told the door.

Sherlock hadn’t left the flat to go after another ‘score’- as John had started to think of the men he screwed around with- for weeks. Mycroft had already met with him and tried to bribe him to break things off with Sherlock cleanly rather than humiliate or shame him. John had told him to go to hell, of course. Then he’d come home from the clinic to find a package waiting for him marked PERISHABLE. He opened it immediately and stared in confusion at a keychain in the shape of a star, the keys attached had 224C engraved on them. John turned sharply and headed out the door, using the keys to enter the flat across the street and one house down.

The flat was a mirror image of 221, right down to the attic bedroom that he walked into with the aid of the second key, but it didn’t _feel_ like his room. It felt like a stranger’s room. It was clean, but mostly barren. A comfortable looking chair faced the window where a telescope was situated beside a solid wood table. The table was laid out with an assortment of sexual aids from lubricant and tissues to cock rings and vibrating butt plugs.

_Take care of it yourself_ , the voice in John’s head spoke in Sherlock’s voice.

John sighed, sinking down in the chair. Was Sherlock so disgusted by John’s desires that he would want him _out_ _of the flat_ when he wanked? Or… John fingered the star shaped keychain and then leaned forward to peer through the telescope into…

_Sherlock’s bedroom_.

 

 

XXX

“Don’t the stars look lovely tonight?” Sherlock wondered as they left the crime scene together.

John smirked, “Sure do. Catch you later?”

“Mm.”

Sherlock hailed a cab and John waited until it turned the corner, smiling fondly after it before hailing one himself. John had at first despaired that Sherlock’s code word ‘star’ would mean they never got to play together, but it turned out Sherlock could be rather inventive. John’s favorite so far was him snapping at Anderson for having ‘stars in his eyes’ whenever Sherlock walked into the room. The poor sod had been so horrified at the accusation that he’d stammered and sputtered long after Sherlock had swanned out of the room, leaving John leaning against the wall and holding his sides while laughing.

Once back to Baker Street John had a few preparations before heading up to his room. Well… his second room. John had prepped himself in the bathroom at 221B before heading for 224C, so it was easy to slide his trousers down and press the plug into his arse. He walked a few steps, shifting it about until it was comfortable. When he was satisfied with his situation he sat down and stroked himself to full hardness while glancing through the telescope. He had it situated so that he didn’t even have to lean forward, he could just peer down into Sherlock’s room whenever he wanted. Well. Whenever _Sherlock_ wanted. At the moment the blinds were drawn. It didn’t diminish his anticipatory arousal. Sherlock was due back from the pub any minute now.

Sometimes Sherlock left him wanting, keeping the blinds drawn until he was finished, dismissing the man or woman he’d had in his bed and then pulling up the blinds for the grand finale. His orgasms were for John alone. Sherlock would lay there on the bed or stand by the window and pleasure himself until he came spectacularly. John timed it to come with Sherlock most of the time, since it made him feel more a part of their experience, but sometimes he came with the other person while imagining himself in their position.

Today was special. Sherlock had never topped anyone before because he was concerned that his inattention to the feelings of others would cause him to inadvertently harm a lover when taking the less passive role. That and he didn’t want to come in their presence. Sherlock got off on satisfying others while keeping a part of himself away from them; John had come to understand it to be a type of showing off just as his deductions at crime scenes were. He felt he was doing something good for someone- his reward was the other person’s pleasure- and he felt accomplished when the act was done. John got off on watching Sherlock display himself like a peacock, knowing that John’s attraction to him drove him to seek out partner after partner to satisfy his urges. Then he got to watch. He got to own that part of Sherlock that no one else could, that part of him that he kept locked up. Sherlock was vulnerable for John and John alone.

John was fully erect now, so he picked up the lubricant and slicked up his hand, smiling as it warmed up. Sherlock always bought him the good stuff. John felt like a kept man, locked up in his tower of pleasure where he would spy on his beloved and toss off like a big, horny bird in a tree.

John glanced through the telescope again and then grinned. The blinds were up. Show time.

XXX

Sherlock smirked as he led his latest acquisition into his bedroom. He’d been trying to find someone like this for _ages_. The cheeky young man was nearly Moriarty’s spitting image. John would come buckets when he saw this!

“So… you do this often?” The man- Sherlock thought his name might be Shaun- asked in a thick Irish brogue.

“No speaking,” Sherlock ordered.

“Yeah… okay,” The man replied, nervous and clearly overwhelmed at his good fortune in having so beautiful a man about to bed him.

“On the bed. Hands and knees… no,” Sherlock smirked, “On second thought, on your back. I want to see your pretty face contort in pleasure when I make you see stars.”

The man let out a nervous chuckle and started to undress while Sherlock pulled up the blinds. He blew a kiss to the bedroom window where his blogger sat waiting to observe him anew. He wondered if John would zoom in on their new toy’s face. Would it alarm him? Excite him?

Sherlock’s phone chimed, a soft grunt that John had programmed to go off when he called or texted; the sound of his long-distance lover coming. Sherlock smirked and picked it up while the young man lay down on the bed with a confused look on his face.

“What was that?”

“No talky.”

**You fucking Moriarty? I may need a cock ring myself. Is that why you waited so long? -Dr. Love** ****

**Yes. –SH** ****

Sherlock smiled and put the phone within reaching distance. The lad spread his legs for Sherlock and he admired the perfectly shaved, waxed, and manicured body spread out beneath him. He’d apparently been planning on being topped, because his arse was shiny from lube and a slick finger inserted inside proved he was just loose enough to make it possible to thrust in without much preparation. In fact, he knew exactly what kind of prep he wanted to give him.

John narrowed his eyes as Sherlock made a face at the window. He zoomed in and grinned as he realized Sherlock had a condom stretched over his tongue. John grinned. He loved it when people ate out Sherlock’s arse, mostly because they always looked so uncertain about if they wanted to do so or not… until they started and Sherlock began screaming in bliss. John was convinced that Sherlock had broken in half the men on the London gay scene by now.

Sherlock moaned as he buried his face in Shaun’s arse. The condom tasted of vanilla latex, something he’d have to improve upon, but the caveat was the man beneath him crying out and pulling at his hair. He loved his hair pulled; it was his sole reason for keeping it long besides attaching wigs to it during cases. Shaun’s legs were thrown over Sherlock’s shoulders, the heels digging into his back as he did everything he could to smother Sherlock with his taint. Sherlock finally gave up on fucking his arse with his tongue and tossed the lad’s legs down on the bed. He tried to take himself in hand so Sherlock pinned his wrists and held him until he stopped thrashing and was reduced to soft whimpers of need along with breathy sobs of his name. _I haven’t even started yet,_ Sherlock thought in disgust, but he knew better than to say anything. That would result in a lost erection at best and an absent bedmate at worst. John would be _sorely_ disappointed. Speaking of John, Sherlock took that moment to straighten up and slowly remove his clothes, arching his body and swaying his hips.

John hummed cheesy porno music and sipped on a bottle of pop, his erection neglected for the moment. He had a cock ring wrapped around him to keep his interest going and was using his free hand to adjust the telescope to face the bed. He had a pair of binoculars as well, which he’d be employing when he was required to change position or if Sherlock and his lover toppled off the bed or decided to move to a new location, as was sometimes a part of The Show. Just as he was starting to get into the sight of Sherlock’s abs doing that impossible roll they managed, the consulting detective suddenly leaped at the man on the bed and snogged him rather viciously. John wondered if he’d said anything. He snatched up his phone and sent a text asking.

**Told me I could call him Jim. He thinks this is some sort of unresolved kink! – SH** ****

**Isn’t it? – Dr. Love** ****

**Yes, and his observational skills despite limited bloodflow to his brain should be commended. Remind me to give him a biscuit later. – SH**

Sherlock put down the mobile again, ignoring ‘Jim’s’ whinging about the interruption, and gave him a wicked smile that left him panting.

“I’m going to do such filthy things to you, Jim.”

John stroked himself eagerly as Sherlock grasped the man- _Jim_ \- by his ankles and hauled him up to prop them on his shoulder. Sherlock pulled a condom wrapper from between his teeth, tore it open, and slipped the rubber on over that long, thin cock. John had long since stopped wondering what it tasted like. He didn’t need that. He needed cases and chases and take-away. Sex was not a necessity. They slaked it in their own way, and if it was odd than it was certainly no stranger than any other part of their lives. There. Sherlock had it on and was slowly working his way in. _Oh!_ John loved it when he teased them!

_That’s it, Sherlock. In a bit. Now out. Now in. Now out. FUCK! I think he just saw Zues!_

Sherlock watched Jim’s eyes roll into the back of his head as he teased his prostate, his mouth gaping as Sherlock bit his lip tightly to hold himself in check. He had a cock ring on, of course, but that didn’t diminish the roaring need in his body. He wanted to fuck fast and hard, but having had that done to him before he was certain it wasn’t on. Not yet. Instead he waited until the muscles clenching around his cock fluttered and sucked and then plunged into him, leaving the man beneath him gasping for air. Sherlock moaned at the heat wrapped around his dick, promised himself he’d rabbit fuck the next one, and then started on a slow glide out. James moaned throatily beneath him and Sherlock eagerly agreed.

John teased the tip of his cock, stroking beneath the foreskin as he watched Sherlock buggering dear old Jim. He’d been planning on fucking himself with a dildo he’d found that was approximately Sherlock’s size, but now that he saw this mess the only thought in his head was how lovely it would be to sit on that mouth. He snatched up his _[ Sqweel 2 ](http://www.amazon.com/Omagazee-Sqweel2-Oral-Sex-Simulator/dp/B00J4F166O/ref=sr_1_15?ie=UTF8&qid=1402450268&sr=8-15&keywords=cunnilingus+toy) _ , pulled out the plug, and pressed the toy against his arsehole on its lowest setting. He used a pillow to keep it in place, both legs slung over either arm of the chair, and leaned back to watch the show with the binoculars while he tossed off. The little imitation tongues flicked against his sensitive parts and John moaned and wriggled against them, rolling his hips to bring them closer or farther away to imitate a real man. Below him Sherlock had taken up a steady rhythm and was slowly taking the man apart. John could see his mouth moving. He could well imagine what that sinfully deep voice was saying to leave James Moriarty gasping in shock and arousal.

“First I’ll fuck you. Then I’m going to roll you over and _spank_ you like the naughty little boy you are while lube and my spit leak out of your arse. Then I’m going to kick you out of the bedroom while I get off _without you_ , because you’re a _beastly_ person and don’t deserve to see the pleasure I derive using your body… and I _am_ using you, Jim. Just like you used me. For a _cheap thrill_.How does it feel to be impaled on my cock and know without a shadow of a doubt that you will _never_ mean to me what the man watching us does?”

“Wh-what?” Jim asked, eyes going wide as he glanced around the room for a camera or another person, “Who’s watching us? Where?!”

“That even if you mar my body with your spunk you’ll _never_ get the part of me he does,” Sherlock leaned forward, bending the man nearly in half, and whispered into his ear, _“My heart_.”

“I… uh… no… tape…”

“He’s not on _camera_ you idiot, my husband is watching through the window.”

“ _What_?”

“And when I’m through coming _for his eyes only_ ,” Sherlock promised, pushing himself up and angling his hips to brush his prostate relentlessly once more, “I’m going to walk you into the bathroom, shove you into the shower stall, and… _”_

John grunted as his body clenched, trying to come despite the ring blocking it. The pleasure was both painful and exquisite. The man beneath Sherlock’s body was scratching at his back like a wild thing while he came explosively. Sherlock climbed off of him and staggered backwards, panting and looking fit to throw himself _back_ on top of him. For a moment John thought he was going to, and a piercing jealousy shout through him at the idea of Sherlock coming while inside the man, but instead he flipped him over. John gaped, his cock throbbing in sync with Sherlock’s hand falling on the pale backside below. The man howled and writhed until Sherlock sat on his back to keep him in place and continued to spank him soundly. John whimpered, abandoned the toy tonguing his arse, and started tossing off frantically with one hand while fumbling with the cock ring with the other. He unclipped it and let his eyes roll back in his head, shouting out several times as his prick spurted into the air, painting his thighs and the cushion of his chair. He fumbled with the binoculars, not concerned about smearing anything on them, and stared at the sight of Sherlock motioning for a staggering and sobbing Jim to go into… the bathroom?

Sherlock was aching for release. Once the door was shut he flipped the lock just to be certain he wouldn’t be spied upon from that area and headed for the window. It was a warm day so he peeled off the condom, smeared some fresh lubricant on his cock, lined it up against the glass by kneeling on an ottoman placed there for that purpose, and proceeded to rub the underside of his cock up and down the glass. He knew this was John’s absolute favorite method for Sherlock to get off. The risk of being seen, the thrill of his desire so clear through the glass, and the heat of his breath fogging the window… it all meant John would be up there gasping out his name and coming just for Sherlock. The very thought drove him over the edge and he leaned back to unfasten the cock ring before giving himself a final stroke and groaning out his release. He painted the window and left it dripping while he staggered into the bathroom with a wicked grin on his face.

John was all cleaned up and tucked in when he glanced out the window one final time. He hadn’t seen the other fellow leave, but he might have missed it while he’d been dressing. He shrugged it off and headed downstairs, locking both doors behind him, nodding to the landlord who was tending the flower box out front (the man had yet to do more than grunt in greeting) and crossed the street with a spring in his step. He was just in time to nearly bump into the Jim Moriarty look-alike as he fled 221B looking a mixture of horrified and awed.

“Oh,” John stopped dead in his tracks, not sure what to say. It rather felt like running into an ex on the street, except the poor bastard couldn’t possibly know that John had been secretly taking part in the man’s sex act half an hour earlier.

“You guys are seriously sick!” The man blurted out.

_Uh oh._

John’s eyes narrowed, “I assume Sherlock had you sign our non-disclosure contract…”

“It didn’t mention… _that_!”

“Regardless,” John replied, not knowing what he meant, “You still have a legal obligation to…”

“I’ll keep your filthy secrets!” The man snapped, “Just stay the hell away from me!”

John shrugged indifferently as the man strode past him, sniffing in alarm at the unmistakable scent of urine emanating off of him. He was just unlocking the door when he heard him walking back.

“Un…unless…” He stammered, staring up at John awkwardly, “Unless you’d maybe _both_ like to…”

“Not interested,” John stated firmly.

“Right. Sure.” The man nodded and turned to walk away again, looking a bit crestfallen.

_Poor bastard. Sherlock really drives them wild. I hope that stink wasn’t really coming off of him. If our bed smells I’ll not be chuffed, that’s for sure._

John stepped into the flat to find Sherlock was showering while shouting out some opera or other. John grinned and happily joined him in the shower, bursting out with some Beach Boys just to annoy him. The shower devolved into a shouting match, then laughter, and then a relaxing night watching telly on the couch.

Just another typical day in the Holmes-Watson household.

 

 

A/N: I am evil. I have placed 3- count it THREE- references to movies in this fic. Some are rather vague. Find one (or more) and collect your reward. ;) 


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